Puppets without Strings
by BlackRoseApocalyps
Summary: Sharon doesn't need anyone, just her father. But now he's gone, and the girl is just beginning to figure out with just what kind of a heritage she has been left with. Note: her father is also an OC. CHAPTER 5 UP
1. Strings

Disclaimer: Of this, I only own Sharon and the plot, unless otherwise stated. The codename for Sharon was thought up by Agent-G. X-Men Evolution is not owned by me in any way, don't think about dragging me to court, because I am positively broke.  
  
A/N: I need some time off of Vacation (that sounded weird), but my imagination won't let me stop writing, so another story! Yay!

* * *

**_Strings  
_**  
Sharon wasn't the tallest, smartest, most beautiful or sweetest person in the world, but she probably was the one with one of the worst attitudes. The only thing that really physically stood out with her was the combination of pale blue eyes and brown hair.  
  
With her 5"6, she was far from an imposing figure, but at the moment, she was positively seething and with the look in her eyes, anyone would slowly back away against a wall. Which was the case right now.  
  
Sharon was a 16 year old girl, clothed in dark jeans, blood red T-Shirt and a jeans jacket. A ragged scar on her left lower arm was hidden under the jacket. The source of that scar was also the source of her fear of canines. When she had been only eight years old, a large dog had bitten her, leaving a serious wound and later an ever present reminder of that event.  
  
The girl had no family, her mother had died when she was only five and her father had disappeared little over a year ago. With no other family to take her in, Sharon was sent to a foster family, where she soon proved to be uncontrolable and ended up being shipped from family to family while trying to find out what had happened to her father.  
  
"Nothing?! You found nothing?!" she stomped around in the small room, her hands gesturing madly around her, "you tell me you haven't found a freakin' thing in all this time?! I came to you because the files at school said you were the best!"  
  
"You hacked the schoolfiles, why don't you do it yourself?" the boy said. He looked several years older then Sharon, taller and stronger, but he still stood backed against a wall. There was something in her manner that made him quite certain that she would shred him to pieces if he did something stupid.  
  
The room they were in was small, sunlight flooded in through the open window while a computer hummed in the background. Across the wall to the right of the window were shelves filled with books on subjects that Sharon didn't care for in the slightest way. The wallpaper was a dull, even grey colour, like the carpet. The one who had decorated it certainly needed some new inspiration.  
  
"Schoolfiles are easy. Military is a whole new level! Which is why I came to you. And you said, I will quote: 'yeah, sure, I'll getcha that info in a couple of weeks.' It is now two months later and they're shipping me of again! You're still with zilch!" her voice dropped from infuriated to to an eerily calm tone, "I. Need. To. Know. What. Happened. To. My. Father. Get it? I will not find out when I'm working with boys who overestimate themselves."  
  
Sharon turned around, taking in a deep breath to calm herself. It was no use blowing up in the lad's face. He couldn't help it, after all. It wouldn't help her at all if she chased him off, she needed his help to get into the military files.  
  
"He could be dead, you know," the boy made a fatal error with that statement.  
  
Sharon turned around, her eyes flaring up in anger, causing the boy to press away harder against the wall, wishing it would swallow him through, which it didn't, so he was still in the same room with one very angry Sharon.  
  
"He is not dead!" Sharon yelled, "He is not dead! You hear?! I don't care what you do. For my part you make that wretched computer of yours tapdance but you will at least find one tid-bit of information for me!"  
  
The anger boiling up in Sharon somehow triggered something that would forever change her world. It was the strangest sensation, as if something flowed from her, together with a rush of adrenaline, she couldn't describe it.  
  
A faint rummbling sound started behind them, Sharon tried to ignore it, but the boy's eyes shifted, and widened in a fearful shock. As she slowly turned around, she knew how she could describe the feeling she was having: as if invisible strings were connecting her to something and Sharon would bet all her money on the computer. The thing seemed to move all on itself, hopping from one corner onto another.  
  
"Tapdancing?" Sharon whispered looking stunned, before realization dawned. For the first time in Sharon's teenage life, confrontation with dogs and other canines not mentioned, a look of fear spread onto her face: was she doing this? Was she a...  
  
"Mutie freak!" she suddenly heard the boy hiss behind her. Sharon whipped her head around and stared at him, now no longer seeing fear on the face, now she saw a look of disgust and hate. She staggered slightly backwards, as if hit, her mind in too much of a turmoil to deal with the sudden hate she saw and Sharon fled from the room, the house, just running, rushing past people on the street as if she was running for her life.  
  
When Sharon stopped running, gasping for breath and not knowing how long she had been running, a lone tear trickled down her face while her eyes held many. She furiously brushed it away: she, Sharon Keane, did NOT cry. With a shuddering breath, she tried to achieve reign over her emotions again.  
  
She was a mutant? But how? Why? Sharon brushed one hand through her hair while looking at her surroundings, but not quite seeing it. Had her father known? Had he been a mutant? Was that why he had disappeared? She slumped against a wall, her head burried in her hands and cried, against all wishes, against her own will, she cried untill she was too numb to cry.  
  
The sky darkened as Sharon finally found her control again, two words pounding in her head: 'mutie freak'. She couldn't go back, that boy would undoubtedly have told others, her foster family. They weren't exactly mutant friendly folks.  
  
"Nice, real nice," she muttered sarcastically to herself, "I thought my life sucked before, I wonder when I hit rock bottom."  
  
The sky darkened further as the girl walked aimlessly to some point unkown to herself. Stars appeared in the sky as the night enveloped Sharon in his toxic embrace. The chill calming her, as a mother soothing her crying baby and a new realization grew in her. Her face set stern, her pace fastening: she could use this to find out more about her father, but first, she needed to gain control over this power.  
  
.  
  
- = Next morning, at the Institute = -  
  
"What did ya wanted to see us 'bout, Chuck?" Logan strolled into Xavier's office, followed by Ororo.  
  
"Cerebro located another mutant, a young girl by the name of Sharon Keane, 16 years of age, no known family. Her mother died 11 years ago, her father is missing in action, presumed dead. She has been moved around a lot of foster families through the year," Xavier looked from one to the other, "her power only just surfaced."  
  
"What is the child's power?" Ororo sat down in a chair in front of the desk while Logan stood with his back against a wall, next to the window.  
  
"Animating objects," the professor replied.  
  
"Who do we take with us?" Logan asked him, understanding that Xavier wanted to invite the girl.  
  
"No one, Sharon has an outstanding record for disregarding authority," Xavier looked straight at Logan, indicating that he thought that Logan should try and invite the girl.  
  
"Great," Logan groaned.  
  
"Are you sure that would be wise, Xavier?" Ororo raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Hey!" Logan growled slightly.  
  
.  
  
- = Same morning, with Sharon = -  
  
Sharon was walking, she hated walking. She had been walking last night untill she was too tired. She had decided late last night that she was going to head to New York, try to get a fake ID there and get a job. What did you need for waitressing? Certainly no rocket-science, Sharon hoped. And if people started questioning her age, she could always say she looked young for her age. Sharon didn't expect that they would buy it, though, neither did she think she had enough money for a fake ID.  
  
"Really, the next time I decided to do this, I should plan it," she muttered to herself, hands pushed into her pockets of the jacket, her face dirty and with slight traces of tears.  
  
Deciding she needed to rest for a while, Sharon promptly sat down on the ground, not really caring if her clothes got dirty, because they already were.  
  
"This is me," she held her one hand in the air and placed her other on top of it, "and this is rock bottom. Anyone looking to kick me while I'm down? Great, now I'm talking to myself. Sharon, you're losing it. Why am I not surprised? I don't know, I only just found out I'm a mutant, no place to go, and nearly no money. Now, there is completely no reason for me to lose it."  
  
Sharon knew she was feeling sorry for herself, but she thought she deserved it.  
  
.  
  
- = At the Institute = -  
  
"We like, heard that there would be a new student, is mister Logan, like, going to get her?" Kitty asked Ororo hesitantly while Logan disappeared on his bike.  
  
"Yes, child, the professor seems to believe that he would be best to hand her the invitation," Ororo's voice betrayed that she wasn't entirely convinced about the professor's decission about sending Logan. The man wasn't, what you called, social.

* * *

Next chapter: you get to see just how stubborn Sharon is.


	2. Decissions made

Agent-G: I felt like doing a radical character change, so that's where Sharon came from. Originally, I wanted to put her into Mutant Underground, but she just didn't fit in there. I hope this chapter lives up to expectations.  
  
Supergirlhv: let's hope it stays interesting.  
  
Richard-Raven-Croft: I was planning on making it funny  
  
ldypebsaby: well, considering Sharon isn't that good with people either, we'll just have to wait and see, won't we? She can be very stubborn, just read this chapter.

* * *

_**Decissions made  
**_  
She hated dogs, absolutely, unmistakably hated dogs, big dogs, small dogs. She hated them, ofcourse it could also be an intense fear, but if you mentioned that, I wouldn't count on getting out of that one in one piece.  
  
At the moment, Sharon was facing the one thing she would back into a wall for and, lucky her, there was no wall to back in to, which left her going slowly backwards.  
  
"Shoo! Shoo! Scram stupid mutt!" Sharon slowly inched backwards from the dog in front of her, "I'm supposed to go in that direction. You're welcome to chase me to New York, I'd get there faster."  
  
Ofcourse, that didn't work. It only seemed to agrevate the dog even more, as it barked and growled even louder at her.  
  
"Allright, I didn't mean the 'stupid mutt' part!" Sharon jumped back a few paces at the barking. O, she hated dogs, she hated dog owners but right now, she hated this dog. Hate was easier to deal with then fear. Much easier.  
  
"Allright, now's as good a time as any," Sharon suddenly said out loud and glared at the dog, willing her power to work. For the first moment, nothing happened, but then, ever so slowly, the feeling returned, as if strings came from her and attached the dog. Her brows knitted together as she focused even more. Very slowly, more 'strings' formed and Sharon tried 'tugging' at them mentally, the dog's ear slightly twitched at that, and his tail made a circular motion, surprising th dog just as much as Sharon.  
  
"Come on ya stupid mutt. I made a freakin' computer tap dance, so I should at least get you to scram," Sharon growled. After several more tries, Sharon lost track after she finally got the dog to actually move a step back, she heard a voice.  
  
"Where are ya headed?" she heard the gruff voice ask.  
  
"None of your business," she said coldly, her right eyebrow nearly disappearing into her hairline as she saw the dog take off.  
  
'O-kay,' she thought, 'if I could do that, I'd be happy for the rest of my life.'  
  
She slowly turned around to come face to face with a hairy man who looked like he had rather be any place but there.  
  
"You're a mutant," the man stated suddenly.  
  
"Yeah? What gave me away? Do I have some kind of freakin' sign on my back that says 'I'm a mutant, kick me'? No, I didn't think so," she snorted and began turn around, only stopped when she saw a knife. Now that would usually throw her into another sneering match, but the fact that it came straight out of the back of the man's hand got a whole other response, "I'll be damned."  
  
So the guy was a mutant too? Why was he bothering her? Her eyes narrowed and she crossed her arms over her chest.  
  
"Yay," she said sarcastically, "you're one too. Let's go throw a party."  
  
"Now you listen," the man growled, giving of the implication that he was just as bad as dealing with other people as Sharon, or even worse.  
  
"No, I don't. I don't have to listen," Sharon quipped and turned around, intend on starting to walk away from the man.  
  
Who did he think he was? Telling her to listen to him like he knew what was best for her (A/N: ooo, she's a regular charming teenager, ain't she?).  
  
"Look," Sharon could hear in his voices he was about to lose his temper.  
  
'O goody,' she thought sarcastically, 'let's see how far I can go before he leaves me alone.'  
  
"I'm lookin' but I don't see nothin' except a man who needs a shave. Badly," she glanced back at him, smirking when she heard that she earned a growl.  
  
"Ya ran away from home, have no place ta go, I'd suggest ya'd listen," he all but snarled, "I know a school for people with gifts."  
  
"For freaks, ya mean, thanks but no thanks. Look," she glared at him, "I don't need you, or anyone and I certainly don't need some happy little school..."  
  
"We have enough resources ta help ya fine yer dad," he cut into her little rant.  
  
"Where... on the other hand," the short statement got her attention, "how exactly are ya gonna help me find my dad? 'Cause as far as I got is about two steps back from where I started."  
  
She crossed her arms and shifted her stance unconciously, ready to bolt the very minute hairy guy standing in front of her made a wrong move. She could fight, but a guy with at least one knife? In his hand? No way. She had this weird thing about actually liking the fact that she was alive.  
  
"Professor Xavier has contacts," the man shrugged.  
  
"And give the man a price for being specific!" Sharon shouted out, obviously relishing in the fact she got Logan's left eyebrow to twitch, "professor Xavier, ya said?"  
  
Sharon raised an eyebrow while sorting through her memories trying to figure out why it sounded so important, suddenly she had it: her father had talked about him, and he hadn't sounded too fond of the man.  
  
_- = Flashback = -_  
  
It was about two years ago, middle of the night when Sharon's father had reached their house, Sharon had been in her room, in bed, not asleep. She could never sleep when her dad was away. She could hear him opening the door, two people walked in, later, Sharon knew that the other was also a man. That was when it began. Her father had not been happy to begin with, talking on an angry, hushed tone, but his voice became louder and louder, with the other trying to urge him to keep quiet.  
  
"I don't give a damn 'bout them mutants, they're human too an' with every right to be alive, but if they even think they're gonna tell me what to do just 'cause mutants are involved, they have another thing coming!" her father was interrupted by another voice, talking softer. Sharon couldn't make out what it was the other was saying.  
  
She was confused: what were mutants? Why was her father so angry with them telling him what to do?  
  
"I don't freakin' care. They're whole attitude just rubs me the wrong way. Baldy... yeah... Xavier, what is he doin' teachin' kids to fight? Yeah, I know I teach Sharon too, but that's selfdefence, that guy's got a private army. That's mighty unsettling when ya consider what these kids can do," the kitchen door opened and closed, taking the conversation out of Sharon's hearing distance.  
  
She turned onto her back, a frown forming on her face in the dark, pondering why her father was so upset, but not really knowing what he was talking about didn't help her.  
  
_- = End Flashback = -  
_  
"Not comin'," Sharon flipped back to the present. She could see a bit of surprise and suspicion on the man's face.  
  
"Hafta see if I can do it on my own first," she looked at him. It was partially the reason. Bullying someone in hacking for her was something entirely different then living at that 'school'.  
  
"Then where are ya headin'? I'll give ya a lift, so you won't run inta dogs anymore," he smirked.  
  
"Jerk," Sharon swore at him.  
  
"No, Logan, where are ya headed?"  
  
"New York," Sharon shrugged, a lift would be nice.  
  
Indeed, the lift was nice, she got to New York a hell of a lot faster.  
  
"Thanks fer the lift, Logan," she thanked him, it was a bit odd, thanking someone for something she hadn't wanted in the first place.  
  
"Here, call this number if ya get into trouble, an' take this," Logan handed her a card with the number of the mansion on it and some money.  
  
Sharon was no fool, and she knew very well that she wouldn't get a fake ID, that was any good, for her ten bucks. So she took it, but this time, didn't thank him and she walked away.  
  
_- = Later, at the Mansion = -  
_  
"She didn't want to come?" Ororo asked as she saw that Logan got back without a passenger.  
  
"Funny thing, when she heard Chuck invited 'r, she refused. Before, an' after I told 'r we could help 'r find 'r dad, she seemed interested," Logan shrugged, "she's got the number of the mansion."  
  
"That's odd," Ororo mused, "and here I was thinking the child's reason for not coming here would be your... charming... personality."  
  
"Hey!"

* * *

Next chapter: Sharon runs into a bit of trouble.


	3. Just a little trouble

Agent-G: gee, I'm happy you like her -. Sharon's personality is actually a mix of me and my sister in the morning. I'm a morning person, she isn't, you should see us at breakfast. And I gave her fear of dogs because of Rahne, I'm an evil writer, remember? And that chapter would be from... scratch. Losing a disk close to a magnetic object ain't a good idea.  
  
ldypebsaby: don't worry, I'm just as dramatic -. You'll just have to see, ey?  
  
supergirlhv: yeah, I thought it would be nice not to go into MarySue land and have her immediately jump at the chance. Backstory? What backstory? -  
  
_**A/N**_: I felt like putting a song into this chapter, it's Runaway Train from Soul Asylum. I don't own it! I heard it on the radio and thought it would fit.

* * *

_**Just a little trouble**_  
  
It was about a month after her arrival in New York and life quite fairly sucked. Sharon had managed to get a fake ID, and to everyone she was now known as Rose Niante. She kept her status as a runaway, only saying she had needed to get away from things. Vague, she staid very vague about her past. The least lies you used, the least you get tangled up in.  
  
She managed to obtain a one-room apartment. Too much rent, too little room. Not that she was complaining, allright, she was.  
  
Sharon had got a job at a small coffee-shop, and the apartment a week ago. The money that Logan guy had given her had made it possible to get through the week before she got her pay-check. The phonenumber was still in her jacket. She was not going to call. She would make it on her own just fine. She would find out what had happened to her dad and didn't need anyone to help her.  
  
Bleary eyed, Sharon tumbled out of her bed, reminding herself she should not again throw her alarm clock through the room. It wasn't even hers. Hers had been professionally demolished the first morning it went off. This was the spare belonging to her neighbour. Somehow, she didn't think he'd take too kindly on her destroying that one. She would get her pay-check end that week.  
  
Forcibly, she folded her bed back into the couch it was by day, before grabbing her uniform for work. A short skirt and a PINK shirt. She hated it. She hated the stupid job and she hated acting so freakin' cheerful so she would get better tips.  
  
Her head still fogged, she stumbled into the kitchen corner of the room and splashed cold water into her face, an attempt to wake herself up that always worked. While blindly groping for a towel, she knocked a mugg off of the counter.  
  
"Damn it!" she cursed loudly at the sound of breaking ceramic. Followed by louder curses as she finally managed to get a clear view of the time.  
  
"O shit o shit o shit! I'm gonna be late!" she cried out. Normally, this wouldn't worry her, and just snap at anyone who told her this, but she NEEDED this job. Rushing to get her sneakers on, and then rushing out the door.  
  
The door jambed, again, and not having the patience to just close it, she never had, Sharon kicked it shut, promptly hearing someone yell across the hall to 'keep it the hell quiet'.  
  
"Right back atcha!" she called back while stomping down the hall, not even bothering with the elevator, the damned thing had broken down even before she had moved in.  
  
It wasn't a nice neighbourhood, so she fit in. The only one who didn't back of after her half growls was her far too chirpy neighbour, which was very annoying. An the other hand quite usefull too, like with the alarmclock.  
  
Work wasn't too far away, running, she could get there within five minutes, the time she needed to get her act together and act as if she was like any other girl, and perhaps a little too perky and bouncy then was good for her. What could she say? She needed this job.  
  
The day was normal, ignoring crude comments from men and boys, amazing herself with keeping herself from slapping them. Ofcourse, that restraint was nothing like towards those snotty 'better then you' women who thought that, just because she was a waitress, they got to order her around.  
  
Snatching a sandwich in between shifts, she watched people pooring in and out of the coffeeshop. On the television was news of another anti-mutant outburst. Looking around, she saw no one paying attention to what was on, as if it was every day.  
  
By the time she could go home again, her feet ached, her head hurt and she could no longer see coffee. No coffee-latte, no black coffee, no nothing!  
  
All she wanted was to go home, curl up on her sofa bed and fall asleep. The door closed behind her, she dumped her jacket in a corner and switched on the radio before making her way to the kitchen.  
  
_"Call you up in the middle of the night / Like a firefly without a light / You were there like a blowtorch burning / I was a key that could use a little turning"_  
  
Sharon was so tired, when she opened the small refrigerator, she saw that she only had left overs from last night's dinner. Perhaps it would have been better to accept the offer, she could use a little help.  
  
_"So tired that I couldn't even sleep / So many secrets I couldn't keep / I promised myself I wouldn't weep / One more promise I couldn't keep"_  
  
Quietly, she pulled out the dish and sniffed at it with distaste. Pasta, Sharon had half a mind to throw it out, but sleeping while still hungry wasn't advisable.  
  
_"It seems no one can help me now / I'm in too deep; there's no way out / This time I have really led myself astray"_  
  
Settling down at the small table, she pokked the pasta suspiciously, as if expecting it to come alive, before eating it. They probably had better then this at that Institute, but she had been too proud and the offer had fallen onto deaf ears. Should she call again? No, she probably wasn't even remembered.  
  
_"Runaway train, never going back / Wrong way on a one-way track / Seems like I should be getting somewhere / Somehow I'm neither here nor there"_  
  
While swallowing the next bite of pasta, Sharon mused over her lack of progress concerning her father.  
  
_"Can you help me remember how to smile? / Make it somehow all seem worthwhile / How on earth did I get so jaded? / Life's mystery seems so faded"_  
  
It had always been her and her dad. No 'baby-sitter' could keep up with her, could out match her in her sneering and some even ran screaming. Sharon remembered quite clearly that dad said that she would one day make a fine drill-instructor. Ofcourse, that wouldn't be the case now anymore.  
  
_"I can go where no one else can go / I know what no one else knows / Here I am just a-drownin' in the rain / With a ticket for a runaway train"_  
  
This also had advantages, Sharon grinned, she could just pack up and leave, if her father had still been around, she wouldn't have been able to. Sharon immediately chided herself: she needed to find her dad, this was only a necesity.  
  
_"And everything seems cut and dried / Day and night, earth and sky / Somehow I just don't believe it"_  
  
Once again, she poked her dinner, then decided against eating more and she threw it out, adding 'grocery shopping' on her to-do list for tomorow during her break.  
  
_"Runaway train, never going back / Wrong way on a one-way track / Seems like I should be getting somewhere / Somehow I'm neither here nor there"_  
  
As she emptied her plate into the garbage-bin, her thoughts wondered back to the offer made a month ago, like they often did. She couldn't help it, but Logan had told her they could help her find her father, and right now, she was stuck between choises: stay or go.  
  
_"Bought a ticket for a runaway train / Like a madman laughing at the rain / A little out of touch, a little insane / It's just easier than dealing with the pain"_  
  
A chuckle came over her lips as Sharon returned to her couch. Joining the X-Men? Her father would disown her the second he heard it. Well, no, perhaps he needed five minutes to stop laughing and then he would disown her.  
  
_"Runaway train, never going back / Wrong way on a one-way track / Seems like I should be getting somewhere / Somehow I'm neither here nor there"_  
  
Her eyes drifted shut slowly as sleep overtook her, the radio continued in the background, but she was too tired to do anything about it.  
  
_"Runaway train, never coming back / Runaway train, tearing up the track / Runaway train, burning in my veins / I run away but it always seems the same"_  
  
Sharon woke up not much later by a loud banging on her door: "Rose! Rose! Wake up! There's a fire Rose!"  
  
That had Sharon right to her feet. As she sniffed, she found that it was correct: there was a stench in the air that betrayed a fire. Before she made it out the door, however, Sharon grabbed her jacket out of habit and slipped it on.  
  
"Thanks for the warning, Greg," she said, before grasping her neighbour by the hand and dragging him to the fire escape stairs, the smoke was coming from the 'real' stairs.  
  
"This is just (cough) freakin' dandy," Sharon coughed as they made their way outside, to find nearly the rest of the occupants standing outside and no sight of police or firemen.  
  
"Figures," Sharon snorted, "not high on the priority list."  
  
When the fire was extinguished, all that was left of Sharon's appartment were ashes and cinders. She was left with only her workclothes and her jacket.

* * *

**Next chapter**: Sharon sees no other choice but to call the X-Men.


	4. A call changes all

**A/N**: so sorry it took me so long, but I had mega computer trouble and just couldn't think for a good chapter. I'm back at school now too, so it'll take some longer. I really need to pass this year with good grades.  
  
Agent-G: the burning down was for a reason, later in the story. Yes, I'm the incarnation of pure evil ;)  
  
Paprika90: thanks, glad you like it, sorry it took so long  
  
ldypebsaby: not saying a thing, but considering her mutation, that'll be fun, I promise.  
  
Aaron: all in good time, and it will be generally fun, though Sharon will be dealing more with the New Mutants then the X-Men  
  
Red Jeanie: thankies, my computer crashed a while back and I was restricted on my internet acces, (still am), so don't tell anyone, allright?

* * *

**_A call changes all_**  
  
Sharon did so not like her life: everything, everything was gone and since she had no insurance, because Rose Niante technically didn't exist, she couldn't get money to get a new place. The only things she had were literally the clothes on her back. Her work uniform. Dandy.  
  
It was in the middle of the night by now and Sharon didn't feel safe walking around in the short skirt. She had got away after a while, her mind mulling over what had happened: she couldn't put her finger on it, but something just didn't sit right with her. She didn't know why, it just didn't.  
  
The girl fiddled with the card in her fingers, debating if she should call Logan to come and get her. How bad could it be? She could fight, and she wouldn't let Xavier use her for his private mutant-army. No one used her, but she didn't like to give people an opportunity to control her, and moving in... No, no way, she stuffed the card back into her pocket, quickening her pace, moving faster through the alleys, her goal clear in her mind.  
  
She had slept in a church not far from her block during the time she had still been searching for a place, she could go there now. Sharon coughed slightly, having inhaled some smoke while fleeing from her apartment, her throat and lungs were irritated with it, but she couldn't go to a hospital, no ID was a real downer.  
  
Sharon wouldn't show it, but she was hurting, very much so. She had had a family a year ago, and now that had been gone, all she had left was looking for her father. And that didn't go well at all. Only thing that went well was running. And truth be told: she was tired of running, so tired.  
  
She took the card out again, fiddling with it, rethinking her decission, then freezing in her steps as she passed a phone-booth. Sharon looked at the card, then at the telephone, back at the card, and the telephone again. She placed a step towards the phone-booth, then froze again: she had no money to call! Then a slightly impish smile worked its way onto her face: they were rich, right? They'd just have to take a collect call.  
  
- At the Institute -  
  
While muttering curses under his breath (A/N: PG-13, I will not repeat those -), Logan made a grab for the phone, who had the idiotic idea to call this late? Then again, it could be important.  
  
"What?!" he snapped at the phone as soon as he had it at his ear, only to find out a telephone operator asking if he wanted to take the collect call, shrugging, he accepted it.  
  
"Logan?" came a questioning voice through the phone.  
  
"Yeah, whatcha want?" he growled, not recognizing the voice.  
  
"Still the charmer," was the sarcastic reply, "Ah, I thought, middle of the night, why don' I go out into the street, find the nearest phone-booth an' call the guy I dislike more then anythin' just ta ask how he's doin'."  
  
Logan recognised that sarcasm, very much so. That was the kid he had been sent to invite into the Institute, but had failed too. Why was she calling at this hour? And why here?  
  
"Are ya in trouble?" he asked suspiciously.  
  
"Now why wouldya ask that? Jus' 'cause my apartment burned down doesn' mean I'm in trouble," an annoyed tone crept into Sharon's voice, "I was jus' callin' to ask if the offer's still standin'."  
  
"Yeah, it's still standin'. Where are ya? I'll come an' getcha," Logan grumbled, they were in for a lot of 'fun' if that girl came to the Institute. Then again, Ororo wouldn't let him live it down that he had refused to get the girl and bring her to the Institute.  
  
"I'm gonna go an' sleep in a Church not so far away, 's safe an' warm there, so if ya could come an' get me there tomorrow or some time after that."  
  
It took Logan a while to get the address out of Sharon of the Church she was staying at, and by that time, he was seriously doubting if it was even wise to get her. Kurt wouldn't survive pulling a prank on her, then again, that would be a good thing.  
  
- With Sharon -  
  
Sharon slammed down the recieving end of the phone. That guy was just so annoying, terrible, awful. What gave him the right to act like all those other 'caretakers'? With the 'were are you?' 'are you in trouble?' 'I'll come get you.'. He wasn't her father (A/N: no, he is not her dad, that would be just very tacky and Mary-Sue-ish), so he had no right!  
  
Why was she even waiting for him to 'come and get her'? Pick a few pockets, and she would be good on the money, she was sure she could catch a train far away from this place, she would never need to bother with that Institute and she could try and find her dad on her own. Stupid jerks who thought that they should butt in just because she was in a rough patch.  
  
Allright, a 'rough patch' generally didn't leave you with no place to go, out of money and your appartment burned down. But still, it was the principle of the thing.  
  
Sharon knew she was being unreasonable. Knowing and caring, however, were two completely different things, for she didn't care at all about how she was being.  
  
The church wasn't so far, more homeless people slept there. It was relatively safe there, and warm. Sharon needed the warmth, a short skirt didn't do much for keeping your legs warm.  
  
The girl quietly slipped into the church, she wasn't religious, why would she be? She had no reason to. People said you had to have faith in something, well, Sharon would rather have faith in herself then in anything she couldn't see, hear or even knew existed. At least she knew she was real. She thought. Life was just so confusing. She should be in school! Not roaming the streets on her own, trying to find her father, spending the night in a church.  
  
"Sharon, you just certifiably lost it. School! I never liked school!" she muttered, settling into one of the unoccupied, empty spaces.  
  
"I see you came back, Rose," a voice interrupted Sharom's inner-seething and raging. She looked up in surprise to see an old woman, probably looking older then she really was, she had the darkest skin a grey hair.  
  
"Didn't have much of a choice," Sharon grunted, though there was a touch of warmth in her voice.  
  
"I was worried, you had disappeared so suddenly. The likes of us do tend to 'disappear', you know that," a sad smile whisked its way over the woman's face as she settled down besides the girl.  
  
Sharon remembered the woman, she was a teacher at a school, but was fired after her drinking problem was discovered and even though she had overcome that, the old woman had never been able to settle down again. No money, no nothing, like so many others. The woman's name was Alice, Sharon hadn't bothered to find out her last name.  
  
"Those punks don't get me," Sharon snorted, "I'm staying here for one night. I was invited for some 'special' Institute, am going there tomorrow."  
  
A worried look crossed Alice's face at the mentioned.  
  
"You're sure it's a real deal?" Alice didn't need to explain that question, there were plenty of people who would try to take advantage of a girl with no home or family, even if she wasn't vulnerable.  
  
"Yeah," Sharon rested her head back, closing her eyes slowly. Suddenly, she fet tired, not tired of the day, just tired of always trying and always failing. Perhaps he was dead, perhaps she was throwing her life away for an unmarked grave, lost in the memories of those who left her father there.  
  
People died, on day, she would be gone too, Sharon knew this, but somehow, she resented even thinking about that her father could be dead. It felt like she was betraying him by even thinking it. You never gave up on anyone, never left anyone behind, her father had taught her that.  
  
It was just so easy to get tired when no one else cared about what she needed. At least, that was what Sharon told herself: no one cared. Life was hard enough as it was without having to care for someone that isn't your flesh and blood. And that only made wanting to find her father that much more important. After all, she was just a sixteen year old, and even though Sharon wanted to deny it, everyone needed someone to care for them like a family.

* * *

Next chapter: the pick up doesn't go as easy as many would have hoped. 


	5. Don't you feel like an idiot?

A/N: Updates will still remain a whole lot slower, reasons: school(trouble), my own life, preparing to write my own novel and I'm also working on a big school assignment. I'm kinda embarrassed to say this, but I lost the password to my e-mail adress. I'll make a new one later today. 

Agent-G: well, I am hoping my updates won't be as far apart as they were. On the bright side, the forced 'break' has left me with quite some inspiration, including some bad choices for Sharon

Ldypebsaby: let's just say that they'll de damned glad she's unique.

Paprika90: thank you for understanding, I'm in my final Highschool year now, so it's pretty important to actually pass. I don't like to abandon fics, makes me feel like a quitter - I'll finish this one, like I finish all my others (though most I don't put online)

* * *

_**Don't you feel like an idiot?**_

Sharon hadn't slept much that night. Rather: not at all. Perhaps it was the fact that there were a couple of very heavy snoring people asleep not far from her, perhaps because she had grown accustomed to a 'safe' place of her own. Whatever it was, it was keeping her awake, and making her even crankier then normal. Not an improvement at all.

The few moments she had dozed of, Sharon had been rudely shaken awake again by her thoughts creeping to her father and what he'd say if he would see her now, what he'd say when she found him again. Sharon had always hoped he'd be proud of her, but now, if she'd actually go to that frea... Institute, wouldn't he just be disapointed with her?

No, she'd deal with that when she would come to that obstacle. First things first: finding him, making sure he was alright, then she'd deal with smoothing everything out. It wasn't as if she didn't have any bones to pick with him. Like why she hadn't been taken in by any other family, because she knew she had them, just didn't know where they were. Or him having them move all over the place. Or why he hadn't told her about mutants. It would have helped her deal with what she was now: a mutant. Maybe he didn't know, but couldn't he have trusted her? Even a little?

She'd seen Alice leave, few others come in, and none of them had been Mister Personality himself. Probably a good thing too, he wouldn't be recieved kindly, looking too much like one of those who were always looking for a fight, Sharon snorted. If he even came, it wasn't like they'd made a deal where he would benefit from taking her to the Institute. The only who seemed to be getting something out of this was her, it didn't fit with her picture of the world, there had to be a catch. Only the sun came up for free, and even that was questionable.

Sharon coughed lightly, as she had been the entire night. The smoke she had inhaled while fleeing from the appartment building had irritated her throat, leaving her with a raw, slightly aching throat. Using the wall in aid for her getting up to her feet. She'd rather die then admit it, even to herself: but she was nervous, a part of her actually wished to go, wanted to be taken to the Institute, yearned for a home.

The fingers of her hands twined behind her neck, while she tipped her head back, no standing on her own feet, but leaning against the wall. Her eyes were half closed, but still kept a sharp look at those who were situated close to her, not about to drop her guard, she didn't trust them in the slightest, and wasn't about to give them a chance either.

They weren't all goody-goody, then again: neither was she. It wasn't as if they were all bad, just bad enough for her to not trust any of them. Not even Alice was to be completely trusted. None of them were. Perhaps that made her life a little empty, perhaps she was gradually becoming too cold to care. At least, that was what she told herself. It didn't help. It still felt the same, the ache she felt for missing her father still was the same, the sharpness had left, instead it was numbing.

"Whatcha lookin' at?!" she heard a man close to her growl, at least, he had dared to move closer to her then any of the others, Alice excepted. Only then she caught herself looking at him, well, not looking, her head was merely turned in his direction.

"At a fool, obviously!" she sneered, shifting her feet slightly to stand underneath her shoulders, her hands forming the start of a fist. It was rather an instinctive reaction then a choice she made: by nature highly defensive, and spending so much time on her own, even when she was in a foster family, had only hightened her defensive nature to one bordering on paranoid.

Like she expected, the guy scrambled to his feet and scurried of. A fool and a coward, how charming. He didn't turn his back to her as he retreated, Sharon noted, which meant he either had some good instincts or had been on the streets long enough to know what not to do if you wanna stick around.

Where was that guy? Oh, she could just as well leave, no use waiting around for some guy who wasn't even gonna show. She made a move to walk towards the doors, but turned around again, growling inwardly: she couldn't even make her decissions!

Bored, she looked around, it was still very early in the morning, sunrise had just barely begun, she concluded from the soft light flooding in from outside. Sharon softly started to hum, walking to the back where she could watch, but no one would notice her.

"Cause if it's no good / Burn burn the stations / We'll burn it down / Burn burn the truth / Enjoy the flames / In celebration / Enjoy the sound / For us, for them, for you," she softly sang, remembering the song she had heard on the radio a few days before the fire. Perhaps she should go to the police station and try to find out what had started the fire.

There were a few things that Sharon enjoyed, besides shooting of snide comments and wise-ass remarks. One of them was singing, she used to sing, her father liked it. He said she had the voice for it, though he wasn't too keen on her becoming a professional singer, he would rather have her get a 'normal' job, one that was a bit more secure then singing.

Sharon still remembered the words of her father's favourite song, it wasn't her taste, but he had always said that her mother had loved it. Sharon didn't remember much from her mother, as her mother had died when she was five. All Sharon remembered, and even that was blurry, was that her mother had gotten very sick and had died. At five years old, the word 'cancer' had been unkown to her. Ever from that time, though, Sharon had hated hospitals, an intense hate.

"I know that I've been told / My intergrity was sold / Price and placed upon the shelf / It's worth it's weight in gold / But do you think we've lost our minds / Yeah we can see through all your lies," the soft, quiet singing was soothing her nerves, Sharon found. Allowed her to rearrange her thoughts, reassure herself that what she was doing would be alright on the long term.

Before she could go any further, though, the doors opened. Sharon's head shot up, her eyes narrowed to see who walked in, one word formed on her lips: "jerk."

This was the place, Logan made sure of it before he entered. Not a particular nice neighbourhood either, at least the kid knew how to keep herself alive. That was a good thing. Entering the small church, he looked around. Logan didn't see her at first: had she left already? Second thoughts and split? He caught her scent, it was still strong so she had to be there.

Once again sweeping the area, his eyes narrowed in on a girl who had just gotten up: it was her, but what on earth was she wearing?! Even Kitty hadn't worn anything like that at the Institute, and that was saying a lot, he remembered the pyramid hat she once wore, claiming it would help her study or something.

Stalking over to the 'jerk', Sharon recognized the look on his face: he was . Part of her couldn't fault her: pink! She was wearing pink! It was a giant joke the universe was playing on her and apparently having a good laugh at it too. (A/N: I don't think pink is awful, I wouldn't wear it, but I don't think it's awful, Sharon does. Don't kill me!)

"Not. One. Word." Sharon growled at him, "do you have any money on you?" she was aching to get rid of those clothes and get some normal ones. Like a shirt and jeans. As long as it wasn't pink.

For the first few moments, Logan didn't dare open his mouth: the look on the girl's face, along with the pink shirt and white mini-skirt, it was just begging to be laughed at. Forcing himself to not laugh, Logan managed to get his stoic manner back and looked dryly at her: "Yeah, why?"

"Then you're paying for a new outfit. I am NOT going to that freak-school wearing this," she meant to say more but was interrupted when a guy entered, looking around dazed.

His face was gaunt, narrow, his eyes clouded over. Digging into her memory, she found the name that belonged with the man, at least, what he said his name was: Davey. Sharon was pretty sure it wasn't his real name, but then, who was she? She didn't use her real name either, atleast, not since her powers had manifested.

It looked as if he'd had another 'fall' too. Davey had quite the history of getting beaten up, and lying about how he'd gotten all those bruises, and worse. Sharon remembered some stories she'd heard at work. But the lies he told about his bruises were practisd. As if he'd been used to telling them even before he found his 'home' on the streets.

"Hey... Rosey!" he swung his arm around her shoulder, Sharon scrunched up her nose: still the same bad breath, no, even worse.

"What's the matter Davey?" she detangled herself from his arm, Sharon didn't mind him all that much, most girls she worked with had a soft spot for the young man, actually. Being a drug-addict wasn't so uncommon and Davey was always very affectionate, even when he was flying high.

The young man completely ignored, or just plain didn't notice, Logan. Instead of that, he practically squashed her in a hug. Amazing strength that he still had within that thin, abused frame. He looked a bit more like a skeleton then a man. Davey said he'd always been thin, being on the streets only made things worse.

Everything about Davey reaked of old, dirt. His jeans were smudged, torn in places, his boots looked as if they'd been around before the invention of sliced bread, even his face looked old. The dazed look in his eyes only served to ascertain this. It was amazing that he wasn't all that dirty. Libraries helped in keeping clean, with the public toilets. Sharon remembered the tricks, she had used them herself during the times she had run away on a lead to what might have happened to her father.

"Davey... oxygen... please?" Sharon tried to losen his hold, casting a warning glnce at Logan to not intervene, Davey was pretty much harmless. He didn't need to be hurt. If Logan even thought about unleashing those knives he had, she'd be walking away, well, after doing some serious damage to that bike he rode.

"Do ya know someone who had a bike parked outside? 'Cause he don' have it no more," with a giggle, he detangled himself from Sharon, zoning in on someone else to bestow his hugs and all on. Like Sharon said: he was very affectionate.

"Do you have a bike parked outside?" Sharon turned to Logan, "if you did, it's just been stolen." the last thing she then saw of Logan was him running out the door back outside. Shaking her head, she followed: no use crying over spilled milk, or stolen bikes in this situation.

Logan cursed as soon as he was outside: his bike! His bike was gone! Not his bike! Bastards! Stealing an inocent bike just like that.

"Well," Sharon drawled with a hint of vengefulness, casually strolling up to stand next to him, "don't you feel like an idiot now?"

* * *

Next chapter: Trying to get a bike back isn't thát easy.

Disclaimer: the song Sharon sang bits of is from the Lost Prophets, it's called Burn Burn


End file.
